


Salvation

by safarikalamari



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Universe, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting to Know Each Other, Healing, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Obligatory Bathing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut: Last Chapter, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/pseuds/safarikalamari
Summary: When Roach takes Geralt down a new path, he doesn't expect much to come of it.Instead, he finds a bruised, battered man that he can't leave behind, a choice placed in his hands.What will come of it is a whirlwind of friendship, healing, and even finding love in the last place Geralt expected.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 64
Kudos: 331





	1. Chapter 1

There were two paths. 

One, Geralt had travelled time and time again. He knew it well and Roach knew it even better, not even needing his guidance from one village to the next. 

The other path to the right led into dark forests, a dilapidated path that only held danger. Geralt had no need to go that way, nothing compelling enough or even a guarantee of coin to coax him. 

He directed Roach to the left, remembering the trouble the first town had a year ago. With any luck, the town had learned its lesson, but Geralt knew not to trust the hubris of humans. His thoughts were interrupted by a whinny from Roach, her head tossing about.

“Roach, what are you doing?” Geralt growled.

Roach had completely ignored Geralt’s tug on her reins and was heading to the right instead. She lurched against Geralt’s pulls, her ears flattening against her head. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Geralt huffed, hopping off of her. 

He grabbed her reins, heading towards the left again, but Roach locked her legs, challenging Geralt to just try and move her. Geralt glared at Roach before checking her body to see if she had any injuries. She had never put up such a fight before. 

“What’s down that road? Is there something you know that I don’t?” Geralt muttered, looking her dead in the eye. 

Roach let out a breath then, hot on Geralt’s face as she stomped her hooves. Geralt could fight with her all day, but it was a losing battle for him. Here he was, a mighty witcher who could take down monsters in one swipe and yet his greatest adversary was Roach herself. 

“Fine,” Geralt ground out. “But if we die, it’s your fault.”

Roach nickered in response, happy to be back on the path she had chosen and started at a bright gait. Geralt rolled his eyes, the temptation to go the other way on his own growing, but he needed her as much as she needed him. His worst thoughts told him Destiny was at work and Geralt could already feel exhaustion creeping up on him. 

Whatever was down this road, it seemed Geralt had no choice but to follow, stuck in the throes of life’s cruel joke.

They walked for hours then, coming across nothing beyond trees and the occasional squirrel. If all Roach had wanted was a quiet walk, Geralt could’ve found that easily on their usual path. Instead, she was dragging Geralt along on some silly notion and Geralt was beginning to lose his patience. 

Before he could yell at her however, a town poked out over one of the rising hills and Geralt was quick to lead Roach to it. She even sped up her gait, much to Geralt’s chagrin, and it wasn’t long before the two were at the outskirts.

Geralt knew something was wrong the instant he and Roach made their first steps into the town.

There were no people bustling about and the wind could be heard through every crack in the woodwork. They were certainly being watched, but the townsfolk were well hidden behind shutters and closed doors. 

Dismounting Roach, Geralt led her by the reins, his senses heightened without the usual distractions. The littlest sound of a mouse whipped his head about, his grip on his dagger tightening with each step. 

When he reached the center of the square, a tall structure made out of wood greeted them. It seemed to have no purpose until Geralt looked at the base where a man was kneeling, arms wrapped around the structure and bound behind his back. He was covered in dirt, shirtless, with red streaks all over his chest and stomach. 

Geralt inhaled sharply as the anger in him grew. He didn’t know the man’s crimes but to be put on display like this was a disgusting habit of humans. 

“A demon,” a man’s voice shook Geralt from his staring. 

Geralt turned to see a bearded man dressed in finer clothing. He didn’t seem bothered by the sight of Geralt at all. More pleased if Geralt was guessing. 

“No one is allowed near him. Not until he’s properly disposed of.”

There was a secret to be had here and Geralt turned back to look at the imprisoned man. 

“Get rid of him and we shall pay you plenty of coin.”

Geralt was no longer hearing the bearded man’s words and simply gave him a grunt to get the man to go away. There was no demon, Geralt would have sensed it before he was even close to the town. 

Waiting until the bearded man was out of sight, Geralt marched over to the structure, going down on one knee to inspect the person crumpled there. He was weak, on his way to dying, and Geralt pulled out his water skin, helping the man drink. 

“What’s your name?” Geralt asked, a gentle hand under the man’s chin. 

The man swallowed, his fading eyes distrusting before he coughed out, “Jaskier.”

Geralt nodded, his emotions stewing. The marks on the man’s chests were fresh and open, an indication that he had just been whipped, infecting old wounds, creating new ones.

“I know you’re not a demon,” Geralt murmured. “Tell me what happened.”

The man–Jaskier–swallowed, fear growing in his eyes. “It was my word against the lord’s,” Jaskier rasped. “He made empty promises and when I tried to leave, he turned the town against me.”

Geralt had heard this story time and time again. Sometimes he was too late and for others, he couldn’t save them even if he wanted to. It was easy enough for Geralt to go on his way, but his stubbornness told him not to. He had to help Jaskier. That much he was sure of.

“I’m getting you out of here, Jaskier,” Geralt moved his hand from Jaskier’s face to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“You don’t even know me,” Jaskier coughed. “I could be just as guilty as the lord.”

“You’re the one tied up here,” Geralt retorted. 

Jaskier gave a half-hearted shrug, his gaze falling to the ground. “He won’t let me go. Not until I’m dead.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Geralt reassured, the gears in his mind already spinning. “Trust me.”

Blue eyes pierced his own amber ones and Geralt’s soul stirred. He knew this man was innocent, whatever charges were against him. With a nod, Geralt got to his feet and tried not to look back as he went to Roach.

He’d take care of things tonight.

* * *

The morning silence was broken by a page boy announcing the death of the lord.

Geralt didn’t look up from his whittling, but there was a hint of a smirk on his face. The first of the townspeople spilled out, whispers abound as they looked in the direction of the castle nearby. 

There were eyes on him, but only the ones belonging to Jaskier. Geralt didn’t look at him. The less the town had something to talk about, the better.

“You were supposed to get rid of the demon,” the man from yesterday approached Geralt. “Now the lord is dead.”

Geralt steadied his breaths, swallowed down his first thoughts. He had found out this man was an advisor to the lord and he was beginning to regret not killing him off as well. However, time had been of the essence. Geralt did what he could.

“How did the lord die?” Geralt asked at last, stopping his knife and letting it glisten in the sun. 

The advisor swallowed, his distrust as ugly as his scowl as he straightened up. “Gone in his sleep according to the healer.”

Geralt let out a small hum he got to his feet. “He was an old man. You can’t assume everything is because of magic and fairy stories.”

The advisor balked at Geralt, trying to find his words but Geralt ignored him. 

“I’m taking the demon with me. That will be my payment.”

Not waiting for an answer, Geralt headed toward Jaskier, the townsfolk scrambling out of Geralt’s path until he reached the man. With the knife in his hand, Geralt cut the ropes with ease and helped Jaskier to his feet, careful to not agitate his wounds. Jaskier could barely stand, his grip tight on Geralt’s arm as his breaths, short and ragged, flooded Geralt’s ears. If he were a braver, more foolish man, Geralt would yell at the town, berate them for their wrongdoings. All he could do now was hope they would pay for their crimes soon and he tucked away his knife, if only to stop his hand from thinking for itself.

Geralt sharply whistled for Roach, watched as the crowd parted even more to let her through. She snapped her head at anyone who took even a step closer to her and Geralt swelled with pride as he helped Jaskier climb onto her back. In one swift movement, Geralt then hopped up behind him and urged Roach forward until there was finally space to breath. No one made a move to stop him and Geralt sent Roach off into a canter, leaving the village in a cloud of dust and confusion. 

There was nothing exchanged between the two men as they rode away, but it was fine by Geralt. He had to focus, make sure they weren’t being followed and then they could stop to rest. When Roach began to tire, Geralt slowed her down, searching the forest around them. If there was a cave nearby, that would be their best bet. 

Geralt led Roach off the path and into the woods, his senses leading him to a shelter. The woods were still, barren of any monsters or wildlife as Roach’s hooves crunched over leaves and brush. It was beginning to drive Geralt mad, but before he could make any complaints, a cave, hidden carefully behind some fallen logs, caught his eye. Dismounting Roach first, Geralt made a quick survey of the area before reaching up for Jaskier. Geralt was careful with his movements, gentle, and he led Jaskier into the cave, laying him down on the ground. Once he was sure they were truly alone, Geralt left Jaskier’s side to collect the saddlebags, kneeling by Jaskier’s side as he sorted through them.

“What did you do?” Jaskier asked, his eyes following Geralt’s every move.

“Broken neck. Bribes,” Geralt shrugged, pulling out some cloth and his water skin. “This will hurt.”

Geralt poured water on the cloth to wash away the dirt on Jaskier’s body, his touches unfaltering under Jaskier’s winces and gasps of pain. The slight friction opened up some of the wounds on his chest and Geralt grabbed the salve, covering every cut he saw. This was not met without protest, Jaskier pushing away Geralt’s hands constantly.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt apologized after one particularly harsh shove. “This is the only way.”

“I know,” Jaskier hissed. “I can’t help it.”

When Geralt finally finished, Jaskier was even more tired than before, his eyes struggling to stay open. Laying out his bedroll, Geralt lifted up Jaskier and placed him on it, grabbing one of his shirts to drape over Jaskier. 

“You’re a good man, Witcher,” Jaskier sighed, sleep overtaking him. “What shall I call you?”

“Geralt.”

“Hm. Thank you, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled before he closed his eyes. 

Geralt blamed it on Jaskier’s exhaustion, but he had never heard his name said in such a gentle manner. He found himself staring at Jaskier’s face, unable to reason why he had helped this man out of all the people he had met over the years. 

There was something about him that Geralt couldn’t leave behind, something worth saving, and he hoped in time he would figure out what that was. For now, he needed to get a fire started and he left the cave to collect some wood.

* * *

Jaskier had improved drastically with a good few hours of sleep. 

In his boredom, Geralt went hunting and came back to Jaskier sitting up, now wearing the shirt Geralt had given him as a blanket. He gave Geralt a tired smile, watching as Geralt started a new fire from the smoldering embers. 

“How are you?” Geralt asked, handing over his water skin. 

Jaskier took it gratefully and after taking a long sip, pursed his lips. “Alive.”

“Would you rather not be?”

Geralt didn’t expect the silence that followed. He hadn’t meant it in any way. The words just slipped out. 

“Ask me again tomorrow.” Jaskier’s voice was soft but Geralt caught everything and he raised an eyebrow. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar to that sentiment, but to console another who shared it was uncomfortable to say the very least. Sometimes, he couldn’t even pull himself out of that hole and he didn’t want to make things worse for Jaskier.

“We can part ways in the next town,” Geralt changed the subject as the fire finally took. “I don’t have much coin but it should get you through a few days.”

“Why?”

Geralt turned to him, furrowing his brows. 

“Why are you helping me?” Jaskier elaborated, his eyes boring into Geralt. 

With a swallow, Geralt stopped what he was doing and met Jaskier’s gaze. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

Jaskier blinked at this, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. He settled on a confused glance, his hands wringing in his lap. 

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” Jaskier began, voice hushed. “But surely there’s others more worthy of saving.”

“What is your definition of worth?” Geralt had taken to staring into the fire, yet focusing on Jaskier’s every breath. 

Jaskier grumbled something to himself followed by a short, “That’s not fair.”

With a sigh, Geralt searched within himself to find an answer. Honesty was his best bet and he hoped it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier. “I couldn’t leave you behind. I’ve lived my entire life with death and hatred following me. I suppose I wanted something different.”

“You’re not like other witchers, are you?” Jaskier spoke with a certain kind of fondness.

This got a small laugh out of Geralt. “I’ve been told that here and there.”

“Alright, how about this?” Jaskier began with a newfound strength. He sat up tall, as if his wounds had never existed as he looked Geralt straight in the eye. “Let me travel with you for as far as you may go. If I wish to leave, I will.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, his mouth caught between a quirk and a frown. He didn’t claim to know Jaskier at all, but this was more than he expected.

“And I know what you’re thinking. I’m able to earn coin too,” Jaskier added upon seeing Geralt’s stare.

“That’s not it,” Geralt shook his head. “I can’t guarantee safety on my path. If it’s not the monsters that kill you, it’ll be the elements.”

Jaskier was not dissuaded, his hands in his lap clenching into fists. “Then let me look Death in the eye.”

“Poetic,” was all Geralt said, just slightly unnerved by Jaskier’s pride. 

He did not miss the small smile appearing on Jaskier’s face, the hopefulness in his eyes like that of a child’s. 

“So...yes?” Jaskier prodded once more.

A headache was forming at the back of Geralt’s mind. He had already made the choice of helping Jaskier out in the first place and now he wanted to come along on the journey as if he was invincible. Geralt wondered if he had put the wrong salve on Jaskier, trying to ignore the stare that wouldn’t leave him. 

“You’ll do as I say when a monster attacks.”

“Of course,” Jaskier nodded, his smile growing bigger by the second. 

For a man who was near his death the day before, there were no signs of that now and instead it had been replaced by this bright, out of his mind fool. Geralt was tempted to laugh, but hid it behind a slight quirk of his mouth. He didn’t want Jaskier having his way so soon.

In his excitement, Jaskier tried to get to his feet, only to fall into Geralt’s arms. “World’s still off-balance,” Jaskier grimaced. 

“How long did they keep you there?” Geralt asked, guiding Jaskier back into a seated position. 

Jaskier shrugged helplessly. “Lost track of the days. They’d whip me until I blacked out from the pain.”

Geralt could see Jaskier curl into himself and he tried to think of something else to talk about, if only to keep unwelcome thoughts at bay. “Have you traveled much?”

Jaskier lit up at this, his smile coming back. “Oh, yes. I was a student at Oxenfurt and gained plenty of friends who had their connections across the country.”

Geralt didn’t doubt that and found himself curious about Jaskier's education. Oxenfurt was well-renowned and it wasn’t easy to get in, which meant one of two things. 

“I didn’t cheat my way in if that’s what you’re thinking,” Jaskier chided. “I came from a family that...well...let’s just say my choices after Oxenfurt were enough to get me disowned.”

Not needing the gritty details, Geralt nodded his understanding and remembered the rabbits he had caught. He grabbed his knife to clean them, waiting for Jaskier to continue on. 

“It’s funny,” Jaskier’s tone became hushed. “Talking like this feels odd to me. Before everything happened, I couldn’t shut up to save my life.”

Geralt tried to not think too hard about the meaning behind those words, the pain Jaskier had been through. “Healing doesn’t happen in an instant.”

Jaskier had gone quiet then and Geralt glanced over to see the man staring at his hands. There was a heavy swallow before tears spilled down Jaskier’s face, his body shaking. Dropping his work, Geralt moved closer to Jaskier, making sure the man could see all his movements so as to not startle him. 

When Jaskier didn’t flinch, Geralt pressed a hand onto his arm, unsure of what else to do. If there was anything he could do. Choked sobs escaped from Jaskier and he clung to himself, rocking back and forth. Geralt let Jaskier cry, dealing with his own confusion in his mind as he watched him. All he wanted to do was pull Jaskier close and hold him until the crying stopped. 

Geralt did not do that however, only grabbing the water skin and handing it to Jaskier when the cries began to quiet. Jaskier gingerly took it from Geralt’s hand, his gulps small as he went between wiping his tears away and taking a drink. 

“They won’t hurt you again,” Geralt spoke at last, his quiet voice feeling too loud for the space around them. 

A storm brewed in Jaskier’s eyes and he gave a short nod before moving to lie down on the bedroll. Geralt moved around to help him, only going back to his work once he was sure Jaskier had fallen asleep. 

There was a long road ahead and Geralt was now doubting if he was even capable of handling this. With a heavy sigh, he kept an eye on Jaskier as he cooked the meat, praying to whatever god would listen that he would be strong enough to handle this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the days pass, Geralt begins to learn more about Jaskier

“What’s her name?”

Geralt’s thoughts were broken and he looked up at Jaskier perched on Roach. It was mid-morning, the two having set off the moment the sun rose. Geralt didn’t want to tire Roach out and decided letting Jaskier ride her alone was the best option. 

“Roach,” Geralt answered, giving her a pat on the neck. 

“Roach?” Jaskier frowned. “That’s…”

Geralt gave him a warning glance and Jaskier stumbled over his words. “That’s a fine name for a horse. Really. I mean it.”

Certainly not the words Geralt was expecting. He gave Jaskier a raised eyebrow to which the man chuckled at. 

“I promise I’m a much better poet than that. Just get me a lute and I’m right as rain.”

Tucking that away in his mind, Geralt looked back at the road, judging the sun’s position and the narrow path that weaved between the hills. There were surely to be some more rural towns, but how plentiful they were or what need of a witcher they had was yet to be determined. 

“Did you know…”

The next sentences to come out of Jaskier’s mouth were small talk and Geralt tried to filter it through every other noise the landscape was giving him. He responded when Jaskier expected and took in the subtle details that Jaskier didn’t even realize he was sharing. 

There was an enduring strength to him, a young man who had seen some of life’s horrors, yet still able to smile another day. Geralt wondered where that part of himself had gone, if it was ever there in the first place. 

“Do you enjoy it, being a witcher?” 

Geralt furrowed his brows before looking up at Jaskier. He hadn’t thought about that for many years now.

“It gets me coin. I didn’t have a choice in becoming one.”

Jaskier hummed solemnly before jumping into another question. “If you weren’t a witcher, what do you think you’d like to do?”

Geralt sighed. Personal questions had always been uncomfortable but there was a part of him that felt he wouldn’t get away with grunts and shrugs when it came to Jaskier. 

“I suppose living in the country with Roach would be nice.”

“Mm, it’d be quite a difference from what you’re doing now. Suppose you could always do that when you get too old for this sort of thing.”

What Jaskier meant by ‘old’, Geralt didn’t even want to think about. He expected plenty more years ahead as long as some monster didn’t get him first. Realizing he should return the question, Geralt opened his mouth, but Jaskier had already switched topics. He had a restless mind that left Geralt struggling to keep up. 

Then again, Jaskier hadn’t had this freedom in a while. While Geralt himself was a quiet soul, it seemed Jaskier needed others and Geralt supposed he would have to get used to that. How strange it was that he was allowing Jaskier to bring all these changes into this life and with little protest. Geralt wondered if his years of solitude were finally eating away at him.

As they settled down for the evening, Geralt made sure Jaskier kept putting salve on his wounds and looked away when Jaskier had taken off his shirt. Just thinking about what had happened to Jaskier made Geralt’s blood boil, there was no telling what he’d do if he saw those marks again. Jaskier appreciated the privacy, letting Geralt know when he was finished and giving him back the salve.

Their dinner was eaten in relative silence, the two men regarding each other over the small fire. Jaskier made a few quips here and there, but his exhaustion was taking over, leaving Geralt to busy himself with his whittling. 

“Could you teach me?” 

Geralt looked up from his work, almost asking if Jaskier was talking to him. Jaskier had ducked his head, his eyes anywhere but on Geralt. Geralt inhaled, not sure if he was up for teaching or if he could explain his knife skills at all. It had been a small hobby he had picked up over the years, never putting much thought into it. 

“If you want,” Jaskier mumbled. “You don’t have to, certainly. Your business is your own–”

Panic set in on Geralt’s mind and he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Let me check if I have a spare knife,”

Heading over to the bags, Geralt mentally kicked himself. Why Jaskier was sending Geralt spinning was beyond him. All he knew is he didn’t like seeing Jaskier upset. With a sigh, he dug through various pockets to see what he could find. He always had some spare weapon, but he didn’t want to give Jaskier a monstrous dagger just for woodcarving. At the bottom of one of the bags, there was a small knife–from where, Geralt couldn’t remember for the life of him–and he handed it to Jaskier as he sat next to him. 

“Keep it,” Geralt said as he grabbed a hefty piece of wood from the pile of kindling. “You can use it to protect yourself as well.”

Jaskier laughed a little at this, thanking Geralt as the lesson began. Geralt hadn’t gotten far on his project and he figured he could start on something easier for Jaskier’s sake. 

“Any animals you like?” Geralt asked, studying the wood’s bumps and cracks. 

“Oh, any at all,” Jaskier mused. “You choose.”

Geralt didn’t like being put on the spot like that and started with a small cut. He’d figure it out as they went along. Jaskier mimicked what he did with Geralt reaching over to adjust his finger positions. Once satisfied, Geralt began again, watching Jaskier out of the corner of his eyes. Not to his surprise, Jaskier picked it up quickly. He had mentioned something about a lute leading Geralt to guess Jaskier was skilled when it came to handiwork. 

Before long, Geralt pulled back to look at what he had carved to see the outline of a wolf’s face staring back at him. He raised his eyebrows, a bit exasperated with his one-track mind, but Jaskier seemed pleased. His cuts were more rugged, some too shallow, others deep enough to go right through the other side, yet considering it was his first time, Geralt could see a wolf in Jaskier’s block of wood as well. 

Jaskier was smiling as he admired his work, an innocence that Geralt couldn’t stop watching. If little things were all it took to make the man happy, then Geralt could easily accommodate that. 

Geralt sighed a little. How quick he was to do anything for Jaskier. They had only known each other for just over a few days and even then, it was hardly knowing. What was it that made Jaskier different from others? Geralt did not know. All he could see whenever he looked at Jaskier was hope. There was a different path of life in him and perhaps it was calling to Geralt. He had been hunting for years, maybe he needed something else to add to that usual task. 

“What are you looking at?” Jaskier interrupted Geralt’s thoughts, tilting his head. 

There was a small smile on his face and Geralt looked away, turning his attention back to his carving. He hadn’t realized he had been staring. 

Jaskier didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by Geralt’s reaction, mimicking his movements. They carved together in silence and Geralt wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Jaskier stifled a yawn. 

“I’ll keep watch,” Geralt said, getting to his feet. 

“We’ll take turns then?” Jaskier followed. 

Handing Jaskier a bed roll, Geralt shook his head. “I’ll be fine. The slightest noise will wake me even if I fall asleep.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t reply as he unfurled the bed roll by the fire. 

“If you need anything, just let me know,” Jaskier murmured as he laid down. 

Geralt bit back his smile. That was supposed to be his line. However, he didn’t have a chance to reply as Jaskier already began drifting off, small breaths leaving him. 

Something swelled in Geralt’s heart and he didn’t want to look away. The sounds of the night were but far-away distractions compared to this man illuminated by the fire. 

Finding another piece of wood, Geralt began carving again and before he knew it, features of Jaskier were staring up at him, sealing Geralt’s fate.

* * *

The morning was like any other, no immediate signs of danger, a pleasant breeze passing through. 

Jaskier’s chatter was growing by the hour and he was now insisting he and Geralt take turns riding Roach. 

“I can walk just fine, see?” Jaskier held out his arms before he proceeded to trip over a rock. 

“Yes, clearly,” Geralt replied, having grabbed Jaskier by the collar before he could fall face-first into the dirt. 

Jaskier scowled and continued to march on, but after a while, he couldn’t hide when his body was tiring. 

“No, no, Geralt, I’m okay,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt hopped off Roach. 

“Then we’ll both walk,” Geralt shrugged. 

Roach whinnied at this and Geralt gave her a pat. She deserved the rest at any rate. 

Jaskier was soon talking again, somehow finding more and more things to say amongst Geralt’s small replies. While Geralt liked silence, having other ways to distract his mind was nice. It was good to see that Jaskier was becoming more confident as well. 

Soon enough a village was in sight and Geralt steeled himself, hoping he would be welcome. When Jaskier suddenly went quiet, Geralt frowned and noticed the wide-eyed stare on his face. 

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked. 

He took a step closer to Jaskier, freezing when Jaskier scrambled back. Jaskier’s breathing was rapid and shallow, his eyes unfocused and towards the ground. 

“I just...need a moment,” Jaskier managed, slowly crumpling to the ground. 

Geralt stayed where he was, not wanting to frighten Jaskier any more than he already did. At least, he wanted to say it was fear. The scents radiating off of him were chaotic, conflicting, and Geralt wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t noticed Roach move from his side, but before he could stop her, she had leaned down, pressing her nose against Jaskier’s head. 

Jaskier reached up to pet her, his breathing still shallow, but beginning to even out. She nuzzled at him and to Geralt’s surprise, Jaskier let out a small laugh. Shakily, he got to his feet and he hugged Roach around her neck, his face buried in her mane. When Jaskier pulled away at last, he turned to Geralt, an apologetic look on his face. 

“I’m not afraid of you, I promise,” Jaskier reassured. 

Geralt wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t about to argue. Taking Geralt by the wrist, Jaskier urged him into walking again and Roach followed the two. Jaskier was almost recovered, but when they reached the outskirts of the village, Geralt could feel Jaskier tense up again.

When they entered, Jaskier immediately pressed into Geralt’s side, ducked his head down in an attempt to make himself smaller. Geralt could sense his confusion, watched as he flinched away from anyone that came too close. Wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, Geralt helped him through the busy streets, feeling Jaskier relax, but only a little. 

It wasn’t until they were in the safety of their room at the inn that Jaskier began to breathe again. He sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands before letting out a strangled laugh. 

“I’m sorry. It’s pathetic.”

Geralt could see his lip wobbling and he tried to think of some comforting words. “It’s not. You were hurt.”

Jaskier sighed, his arms wrapped around himself like a protective barrier. “I don’t want to be like this forever.”

“When…when my friend died, I refused to move on at first,” Geralt swallowed. Old wounds were opening and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure. “There was nothing that could replace him.”

Jaskier said nothing, but Geralt could feel his eyes on him. 

“The pain never goes away, but the nightmares don’t come as often.”

Hearing his own words did little to comfort even Geralt himself and he hoped he wasn’t sending Jaskier into a deeper spiral. 

“Thank you...for sharing that with me,” Jaskier spoke at last. “Life is cruel, isn’t it?”

Geralt could only nod, glancing at Jaskier as the man laid back on the bed. 

“I think I would like to rest. You don’t have to stay on my account.”

“I’ll find us some food then,” Geralt answered in a soft voice.

Waiting until Jaskier closed his eyes, Geralt stepped out of the room, shutting it gently behind him. He needed the distraction. If he stayed in that room, tears were likely to happen and Geralt didn’t want Jaskier to have to see that. 

Heading down the streets of the market, Geralt scouted for needed supplies, most prices agreeable as sellers were often too afraid to haggle with Geralt. At one fabric stall, Geralt came across matching sets of clothing in a variety of colors, so he snagged some for Jaskier. His own shirts were too baggy for the man, plus Geralt didn’t want them dependent on just his clothes alone. Geralt was beginning to feel like a fool with his arms full of packages, but his shopping wasn’t done yet. Towards the last stalls, Geralt spotted the artistic woodworking and he stopped in front of a tent that was filled with all kinds of musical instruments. 

While Geralt knew more about weapons, he could tell the mark of a craftsman and looked around for a lute. There, hanging towards the higher part of a tent, was crimson wood, delicate floral designs etched into it. The lute had been made with intention, as if to say no man could take it off the seller’s hands. Luckily, Geralt was no man.

“You’ve got a good eye,” the old man nodded, following Geralt’s gaze. “Didn’t know witchers cared to play.”

Geralt did his best to keep his face stern, posture intimidating. “Consider yourself known then. How much?”

The seller grinned, offering an amount that seemed reasonable enough to Geralt and he agreed. Leaving the market with hands full, Geralt kept the lute and its case closest to himself and went back to the inn, hoping Jaskier was still asleep. To his luck, Jaskier had burrowed into the blankets, just the top of his head sticking out, allowing Geralt to tuck the case behind his other bags. 

He set out the meager meal he had acquired for them, chewing on a small piece of bread as he looked out the window. He was growing soft. No one had gained this kind of favor from Geralt in years and here Jaskier was flipping him on his head. 

Geralt had to admit there were many times on the road where he did get lonely. The only way he got past it was scolding himself. Witchers didn’t need anyone, didn’t need attachments that could hurt them in the end. 

Now, Geralt was doubting that, as he watched Jaskier stir under the blankets. There was a small yawn before Jaskier stretched and when he sat up, he appeared dazed. 

“How long have I been asleep?” Jaskier rubbed his eyes, tiredness hanging on the edge of his words. 

“Just a few hours,” Geralt guessed. “There’s food and drink.”

This got Jaskier’s attention and he rushed over to the table, scarfing down the food as if it was filled with delicacies. Geralt was sure he had never seen anyone eat so fast–when it came to humans–a part of him wondering if he should stop Jaskier in case he accidentally started choking. 

However, Jaskier was soon satisfied and sitting back on the bed, looking around the room. 

“I know it’s not much,” Geralt began but Jaskier was quick to reassure him. 

“It’s lovely. You could’ve put us in the stall with Roach and I’d find it filled with the comforts of home.”

Geralt’s mouth quirked up at this and he watched Jaskier just a little longer before he remembered what he had gotten at the market. As he pulled out the various packages, he could feel Jaskier’s stare on his back and imagined what curiosity those blue eyes held.

“I wanted to give this to you when you were awake,” Geralt said, handing the lute and its case to Jaskier first.

Jaskier tentatively took the case and opened it, a small gasp leaving him as he set the lute on his lap.

“Geralt, thank you,” he breathed, his hands tracing along the grain. “I don’t even know what to say, this is so kind of you.”

Geralt ducked his head, unused to such genuine gratitude. “Play me a few songs on the road and we’ll call it even.”

Mentally kicking himself, Geralt quickly turned away from Jaskier to hide his embarrassment and grabbed the other packages. Where that had come from, he had no idea. It came bursting from his heart and the sudden vulnerability was too much. 

“Alright,” Jaskier said, his voice carrying the hint of a smile. “I’ll write you a ballad as well.”

Geralt nearly dropped everything in his hands, but managed to set the packages next to Jaskier. “I got you some clothes as well,” Geralt ignored what Jaskier had said. 

It wasn’t so much ignore as it was not wanting to think too much about it. His words were sweet and promising, things Geralt hadn’t needed to respond to in the past. 

Jaskier had moved on, opening each package with earnest. He gushed over the fabrics, traced his hands over the designs as he told Geralt he would try them all on once he had a proper bath. Glancing back at the bed, Jaskier’s face turned red and he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Suppose we’ll need new sheets too. Didn’t realize what a mess I was.”

Geralt was glad to have an excuse to leave the room and he went quickly downstairs to secure everything for Jaskier. He didn’t want to go back up, but the innkeeper was getting busy with the customers trickling for the evening, giving Geralt no choice but to face Jaskier again.

Jaskier graciously helped him make the bed and offered the bath to Geralt first, an expectant stare trapping Geralt. Heat rose to Geralt’s face before he made a quick lie to leave once again, thankful Jaskier let him escape without any protest. The evening wore on and when Geralt figured he had stayed away long enough, he finally made his way upstairs. 

A few candles were still lit when Geralt entered the room, but Jaskier was sound asleep, soft snores leaving him. Geralt smiled to himself as he blew out the candles and settled on the small couch in the corner, his gaze never straying far from Jaskier. Even in the darkness, he could still see Jaskier’s outline and Geralt began to relax. Jaskier could sleep without worry, safe in this room, safe with Geralt. Strange as it was, Geralt found himself wanting to keep it this way for Jaskier no matter how long that may be.

Geralt was happy and for the first time in a while, sleep came easily.


	3. Chapter 3

There were many things Geralt expected to see in the morning, but it certainly wasn’t Jaskier with just his smallclothes on, trying on his new outfits.

“Blue or red?” Jaskier asked, switching between the two doublets. 

Geralt blinked the sleep away, wondering where the Jaskier from yesterday had gone. 

“New clothes always make me happy,” Jaskier grinned, as if sensing Geralt’s questions. “You chose very nice colors as well.” 

He examined himself in the mirror, still unsure of which outfit to go with. If it meant Jaskier getting some actual clothes on, Geralt could make that decision easily. 

“Blue.”

“I hoped you would say that,” Jaskier pulled on the blue outfit, leaving Geralt to wonder why Jaskier had asked him in the first place then.

Jaskier continued to talk as Geralt got himself ready for the day, asking questions that he didn’t wait for Geralt to answer, pointing out little details in his clothing. By the time they had retrieved Roach from the stable, Geralt had finally thought of something to add to Jaskier’s conversation, but Jaskier was quicker.

“Where are we headed today?” He asked as they left the village, the sun just beginning to creep over the horizon.

“Wherever the next job is,” Geralt shrugged. “Clients usually find me first.”

Jaskier nodded, hands gripped tight to the strap of his lute case. “You must have an awfully good sense of direction then. Being able to head into the unknown and finding a destination anyway.”

“I suppose. My senses don’t really give me a choice,” Geralt mused. 

He had never thought much about his abilities beyond how to be better, stronger. All of them were connected, keeping him alive, but they were nothing to brag about. 

“Does that mean you can see things others can’t?” Jaskier cocked his head. 

Seeing there was no way out of this conversation, Geralt scrambled to think of something interesting amongst the mundane. “And smell, hear....whatever animals can do, I can do moreso.”

Jaskier’s eyes grew wide, a child-like excitement transforming his face. “So, what do I smell like?”

Geralt blinked. Of all senses to focus on, Geralt didn’t expect it to be his ability to smell every emotion, to know when a flower has bloomed or when wine has been poisoned. 

“Nice,” is all Geralt managed before looking away.

“Nice as in…?” Jaskier prodded, tipping his head to get into Geralt’s peripheral.

Exchanging a glance with Roach, Geralt then turned back to Jaskier and took a quick, soft inhale. 

“A sunset on an autumn evening.”

Geralt snapped his gaze to the ground. The words had just come out, there had been no thought behind them, but now Geralt could feel the weight of every letter. What it could mean to someone like Jaskier. 

“Oh, I…” Jaskier breathed. “Thank you.”

Giving a stiff nod, Geralt marched on, hoping Jaskier would distract himself with mindless chatter. 

“I wish I could say what you smell like. Charcoal perhaps? Heroics, heartbreak…”

“Onion,” Geralt couldn’t help interrupt.

Jaskier paused before he let out a bright laugh. Geralt nearly jumped out of his skin, hand reflexively going to his dagger and he stared at the other man. How happy, beautiful, he looked, congratulating Geralt on his little joke. Geralt’s walls dropped and a glimmer of hope filled his soul. 

It seemed Jaskier was on his way to healing and really, Geralt couldn’t ask for more of the day that awaited them.

* * *

They had been in these woods for hours. 

Jaskier, uncomplaining, had kept up with Geralt’s pace, keeping the silence at bay as they traversed through a barely seen path. If it wasn’t for the sudden grumbling of Jaskier’s stomach, Geralt would’ve kept going. 

However, he had to remember a human was with him and as well as Jaskier was doing, Geralt needed to make sure Jaskier was properly taken care of. 

“Let’s stop here,” Geralt led Roach over a cluster of trees and hoisted one of the saddlebags off of her. 

While Jaskier didn’t say much beyond his smile, Geralt could still feel his relief, the eagerness as he drank deeply from the water skin. 

“It’s not much,” Geralt admitted as he handed Jaskier some bread and dried berries.

“It’s more than enough,” Jaskier reassured with a grin.

The two ate their food, or rather, Geralt watched Jaskier eat, pretending to take a bite here and there when Jaskier looked at him. Geralt wouldn’t need a proper meal until later, but he didn’t want Jaskier fussing over him. The man had enough to worry about as it was. 

While Geralt allowed his mind to wander, his senses remained at attention and sure enough, the presence of danger entered his mind. He shot to his feet, eyes searching the trees that surrounded them and it was only when he heard a small breath did Geralt turn to look at Jaskier.

“Is something wrong?”

“There’s something nearby,” Geralt muttered. “Not sure what it is yet, but I’m guessing it won’t let us camp here without a fight.”

Jaskier stepped closer to Geralt, his eyes searching the woods around them. 

“Stay by Roach,” Geralt held out a hand as his other drew a sword. 

Not waiting for Jaskier’s reply, Geralt marched into the forest, leaving Jaskier and Roach by themselves. 

“What if it comes to us?” Jaskier whispered to himself, pressing against Roach. 

Roach, ever understanding, herded Jaskier towards a clearing, standing behind him with her head hanging over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, Roach,” Jaskier reached up, petting her neck. 

It was then several cacophonous noises echoed through the forest. Growls mixed with stomach-turning crunches made Jaskier fear the worst, his ears unable to find where the sounds were coming from. He could hear Geralt’s shouts, some more painful than others, leaving Jaskier wanting to run to him. It went on for too long and when the forest went quiet, Jaskier began to panic. His voice caught in his throat when he wanted nothing more than to call out Geralt’s name. 

The trees shook around him and Jaskier shivered, his nerves starting to get the best of him. Several branches cracked before Geralt came shoving through the brush, covered in monster guts. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier cried out in relief and rushed to the man, only coming to a stop when he saw Geralt gripping onto his side. “You’re injured!”

“In my bag,” Geralt ground out. “There’s a green bottle. I need to put it on the wound.”

“Green,” Jaskier nodded, scrambling over to the bags. He all but dumped the contents onto the forest floor, finally procuring the bottle. 

Geralt had already started taking off his armor, ignoring the pain before Jaskier stopped him with a hand. 

“You stay still. I don’t want you agitating the wound any more.”

Geralt did as he was told, adjusting as Jaskier asked until he was laying back, his upper layers finally off of him. Jaskier poured the liquid onto the gash, eyebrows furrowing even more at Geralt’s hiss of pain. 

“It’s working,” Geralt tried to reassure, just wanting to deal with the injury with himself. 

Jaskier pursed his lips, then went back to the bags, grabbing what Geralt couldn’t see. When Jaskier was at his side again, Geralt watched as he threaded a needle with shaking hands. 

“Jaskier–”

“–No. I don’t want to hear it,” Jaskier glared at him. 

With a grunt, Geralt stared at the sky, anticipating the oncoming pain. He winced as the needle passed through his skin, but Jaskier worked quickly to close the wound, knotting off the string and cutting it with his teeth. 

“You’re not allowed to move for the rest of the evening,” Jaskier said as he cleaned up the area around them. “If you need anything I’ll help you.”

Geralt was ready to argue and then thought better of it. Jaskier was right after all. It was a decent wound, though Geralt wanted to point out that he’d be almost healed by morning regardless. 

“Are you always this reckless?” Jaskier asked as he gathered sticks for a fire. 

“My years of skill aren’t reckless,” Geralt retorted. “There’s no predictability with monsters.”

Jaskier muttered something to himself as he struck stone against flint. At last, the fire sparked to life, illuminating the growing darkness. Geralt knew his answer wasn’t enough to satisfy Jaskier and he allowed himself to open up a little more. 

“Witchers know they’ll die fighting. No one’s heard of a witcher dying of old age.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should.” Jaskier stopped, a frustrated breath leaving him. “When I was waiting for you, my heart stopped several times. I thought for sure you were done for.”

Geralt held back a laugh. “I won’t go down because of some kikimoras.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Jaskier bit back. He had taken to staring at the fire, his shoulders hunched up and Geralt wanted to reach out, to calm down the storm inside of Jaskier. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt sighed. “I haven’t had a travelling companion like you. I’m not used to people caring.”

Jaskier hesitated before turning to Geralt. “I’m sorry too. I should know that you are more than capable of fighting monsters and taking care of yourself.”

Silence edged between them, the fire crackling, and Jaskier moved closer to Geralt. It was a comfort Geralt never knew he needed and he almost thought as much to say so. 

“I appreciate what you’ve done,” Geralt said instead. 

The start of a smile appeared on Jaskier’s face, his pose relaxing as he tried to shrug it off. “It’s what friends do.”

Friends. There was a word Geralt hadn’t thought about in years. He didn’t dare. Yet now, with Jaskier staring at him, his heart thumped in his chest. Surely they weren’t friends, they hadn’t known each other long at all. That didn’t seem to matter to Jaskier as he let out a cough before going over to the bags and grabbing the bed roll and some nourishment. He eased Geralt onto the bedroll, then helping him take sips of water from the skin. 

When Geralt had first freed Jaskier from his torture, he didn’t imagine this man would stand by him, now tending to his wounds. Destiny certainly had a sense of humor, leaving Geralt to do nothing more than watch Jaskier move back and forth across the camp. 

Despite all his pain, his past, Jaskier moved like the wind, effortless and graceful. Every action appeared to have a thought behind it and when Jaskier came back to his side, Geralt let their eyes meet. 

“Rest now, Geralt,” Jaskier spoke, soft and gentle as he brushed some hair away from Geralt’s face. 

Geralt obeyed Jaskier, as if it had always been his second nature, his mind drifting away to the sounds of a crackling fire and Jaskier’s knife notching at a piece of wood.

At first there was nothing but darkness. Then, little by little hazy images appeared, distant voices calling out to Geralt. He tried to ask who was there, where he was, but his questions went unanswered as with each passing moment, the scene became clearer. There was a smiling face, laughter that Geralt hadn’t heard in decades. His soul was light and he ran towards the figure, into their open arms. 

When he pulled back from the embrace, the face before him was all too familiar, filled with the calm before the storm. Before Geralt could protest, beg for forgiveness, the ground slipped out from under him. 

Shooting up, Geralt panted as he stared about wide-eyed. The forest was filled with shadows, unfamiliar before Geralt’s eyes landed on Roach. A shuddered breath left him and he glanced at the glowing embers of the fire nearby. Just past that was the sleeping outline of Jaskier and it was enough to ground Geralt and his beating heart. 

Throwing his blanket to the side, Geralt got to his feet despite the protest from his healing wound and he trudged to the outskirts of the clearing. His friend was never far from his mind, the passing years doing little to heal the hole in his heart. Time and time again, others tried to convince him of his innocence, but Geralt could not see past it, could not allow himself any forgiveness. 

“Geralt?”

Jaskier’s voice jolted Geralt from his thoughts and he whipped around, immediately regretful when Jaskier backed away. 

“I thought you were asleep,” Geralt mumbled, looking away from Jaskier’s wandering gaze. 

“I was...,” Jaskier admitted as he took a step closer. “But I heard you get up. Is everything alright? Is there another monster around?”

Geralt shook his head, the truth refusing to come forth. He didn’t know where to start, if Jaskier even wanted to hear any of it and his conflict consumed him. 

“Was it a bad dream? Your friend?” Jaskier asked in a hushed tone, trying to meet Geralt’s eyes. 

Unable to stop his nod, Geralt fought against the sting in his eyes and crossed his arms as if that would protect himself. He swallowed, his words thick in his mouth, a shallowness carving itself into his chest. 

“Not many of us made it through the trials,” Geralt began, his voice shaking. “Those of us that did, we became very close. Brothers, companions, anything to feel human again.” Tilting his head back, Geralt stared at the canopy above, a silent wish to keep his tears at bay. “Gweld was his name. We did everything together, held each other through the nights. Nothing could tear us apart.”

Geralt screwed his eyes shut as images of steel, blood, screams echoed in his ears. He had to do what was necessary, had to save the others. 

“I couldn’t help him. He had to be killed and I was the only one who could do it,” Geralt whispered, curling into himself. 

The first tear began to fall and an aching emptiness filled his heart. His body began to numb as he held down his crying, the void swallowing him whole. He was all alone, cursed to carry this weight for the rest of his life. 

An arm wrapped around Geralt’s waist first before Jaskier’s hand carded through his hair, guiding Geralt’s head to rest on his shoulder. Burying his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt allowed more tears to spill, let his arms wrap around Jaskier and hold him close. Despite the stabbing pain, warmth spread through Geralt as he gripped tight to Jaskier. He shook with quiet sobs and Jaskier embraced him through it all with a gentle understanding. 

Geralt was sure he had been crying for hours by the time he lifted his head. A dull ache thudded at the back of his head and he let Jaskier lead him back to his bedroll, strong hands guiding him to the ground. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Jaskier spoke just above a whisper, fingers kneading into the tight muscles of Geralt’s shoulder. 

Barely managing a nod, Geralt exhaled as he relaxed into Jaskier’s touch. Sleep was beginning to take over again and Geralt welcomed it with open arms, if only to forget for a little while. The last thing he heard before he slipped away was a secret that he would let Jaskier keep, something that would forever bind them.

“We have each other now. We’ll be okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

Despite Jaskier’s protests in the morning, the two were back on the road accompanied by mindless conversation and the occasional scolding mixed in. What happened the night before didn’t need extra worry, at least not for Geralt. Thanking his stars, Jaskier hadn’t brought it up, but he still couldn’t put Geralt’s injuries to the side.

“I mean, really,” Jaskier sighed in between his jabbering. “Just because your wounds appear to be healed, doesn’t mean they are.”

As tempted as Geralt was to point out his being a witcher, all that flew over Jaskier’s head. He scoffed in disbelief, chided Geralt’s actions as if he was deliberately putting himself in danger. Finally, Geralt had enough. 

“What did you study at Oxenfurt?” Geralt asked through gritted teeth.

He didn’t particularly care, but he had to get Jaskier’s mind on something else. To his relief, Jaskier was more than happy to indulge his education. Geralt grunted at the appropriate times and was unable to stop himself from raising his brow at others. Of course Jaskier had studied Astrology. 

“But music, music is my true love,” Jaskier nodded, the smile on his face wistful, far-away. 

Geralt waited for more, but Jaskier had gone quiet then, his eyes cast down at the ground. His fingers rubbed together, like there was an itch he couldn’t scratch. Pursing his lips, Geralt unhooked Jaskier’s lute from Roach’s saddle and handed it down to Jaskier, amused when Jaskier stared at it with wide eyes. 

“Play something for me then.”

Jaskier blinked, looked up at Geralt as he searched for the teasing, but when none came, Jaskier accepted the offering. Throwing the case across his back, Jaskier hooked the lute onto himself and plucked a few chords. The effect was instant as Geralt’s shoulders dropped, his busy mind focusing on the music. 

It was then Jaskier opened his mouth and the first note flowed into the air. The song was slow, thoughtful, leaving Geralt entranced. 

He hadn’t imagined Jaskier to sound like this, a gift sent from another world, a blessing bestowed on one such as him. Geralt almost felt ashamed, to be allowed such beauty and he drew in a sharp breath as Jaskier sang. 

Occasionally, Jaskier’s eyes met his own and Geralt couldn’t think of anything beyond the man beside him. 

How he had missed this, a feeling of belonging, the acceptance of someone who wasn’t a witcher. It was as if Jaskier was singing just for him and Geralt didn’t want to let it go. 

He nearly protested when the song came to an end, but not a moment later, Jaskier was jumping into another tune, brighter and with more energy. With each song, Jaskier opened up, his smile gracing his face, his voice clear and beautiful in the scenery around them. Even Roach was in higher spirits, her hooves clopping in time with the music. When Jaskier noticed this, he grinned up at Geralt before dancing around her, putting on a show for an invisible audience. 

Geralt’s cheeks began to hurt and it was then he realized there was a smile on his own face. How strange the feeling was, how foreign this happiness felt. He glanced around to see if there were any wandering eyes on him but all he saw was Jaskier bouncing around, filled with joy. 

“Oh, I haven’t felt this good in a while,” Jaskier brought himself back beside Geralt. “Thank you, my friend.”

Jaskier pressed a hand against Geralt’s leg, squeezing just a little, but it was enough. Geralt’s heart thumped in his chest and he was sure his own body was giving him away. With a nod, Geralt urged Roach on just a step faster in an attempt to clear his mind. If Jaskier noticed, there was no protest and he soon caught up to Geralt, singing a very bawdy song. 

Biting back his smile, Geralt went back to watching Jaskier, shaking his head with every wink and cheeky grin he received. Whatever he had done to earn this, he would pay back tenfold.

It was as if Destiny herself had read Geralt’s mind, pushing him with an eastern wind towards a village in need. Coin was running low after a few weeks of meager eating and Geralt was nearing the point of desperation. Even if his task was to face some dreaded creature that would leave him bruised and bloody, he would snatch it up in an instant.

Just before the outskirts of the village, Geralt climbed off Roach and pulled Jaskier close to his side. The tense shoulders only dropped a little, a small ‘thank you’ reaching his ears as the two men took their first steps past the wooden post signs. 

The village itself was in disarray. The streets were quiet and filled with rubble with only a few villagers passing by. Some paid Geralt and Jaskier no mind while others rushed past, though none held fear toward Geralt. Perhaps a morbid curiosity if he was being honest. When he and Jaskier reached the inn, Geralt could feel the hidden eyes on him, but he kept his hold on Jaskier and brought them inside. Jaskier took Geralt’s hand then and the two were greeted by a gruff man standing behind the bar.

“Master Witcher,” the man nodded, “Was hoping one of you might stop by.”

“What is it?” Geralt asked, a few guesses already at the forefront of his mind. 

“Werewolves,” the man grimaced. “Quite a big pack too. Killed all our sheep and some have managed to break into our barns. We’ll pay you with plenty of coin. Free room and meals as well.”

The thought of a hot meal was all it took for Geralt to nod his head and he headed back out to the stable with Jaskier in tow. 

“Am I coming along?” Jaskier asked. 

It was then Geralt let go of Jaskier’s hand and frowned at him. Werewolves were no easy matter, but Jaskier was quick to argue his case.

“I’ve only read about them. If I get just one glimpse then I can properly describe them in this song I'm working on,” Jaskier explained. “Better yet, use me as bait!”

Geralt could feel an oncoming headache with the beaming smile Jaskier was giving him. 

“Fine,” he gave in, leading the way his senses guided him. 

Jaskier walked alongside him, chattering excitedly about his speculation of the creatures, how the hunt would go. Jaskier’s details weren’t too far off, but there were some things he was a bit naive about. 

Then again, he had offered himself as bait, so Geralt figured it was his funeral. Not that he would let a single injury befall Jaskier. 

“Stand here,” Geralt pointed to a stump when they had reached the site at last. 

Jaskier was quick to comply and Geralt was thankful for that. It wasn’t an obvious spot and it would allow Jaskier to escape quickly if needed. 

“Now what?” Jaskier still smiled, excitement radiating off of him. 

“Now we wait,” Geralt shrugged. “Your smile alone will call them from miles away.”

Geralt did not miss the sudden reddening of Jaskier’s face and he turned away before Jaskier could see his smirk. Truth be told, Geralt could already tell where the creatures were, but Jaskier had wanted to help and this was the best he could come up with. 

A snarl caught both of their attentions and Geralt charged headfirst at the creature that shot out from between the trees. It was sliced through in an instant, but more were on their way, howls filling the air. 

“Oh shit,” Geralt heard Jaskier mutter. 

A werewolf leapt through the air towards Jaskier but before it could swipe, Geralt chopped its head clean off. He now realized they were surrounded and even if he told Jaskier to run, there would be nowhere for him to go. 

“Geralt, behind!” Jaskier yelled. 

Geralt swung his sword, cleaving off an arm, but the horde was becoming too much. 

“Get down!” Geralt shouted at Jaskier before he threw a hand out. 

A shockwave sent the horde flying back, giving Geralt enough time to take out those closest to him. With each hack and slash, it was never ending, with too many close calls, but Geralt didn’t stop, not for a moment. 

When the final body fell to the ground, Geralt inhaled sharply, turning in a tight circle to assess the damage. Jaskier had come out unscathed, at least physically. He stared wide-eyed at Geralt and then at the bodies that surrounded them before he let out a small laugh. 

“Are you in there under all that blood?”

As Geralt glanced down at himself, blood dribbled down from his head and he scowled. “Let’s hope the village pays their dues,” he muttered, leading the way back to civilization. 

Jaskier followed diligently behind and they were back at the inn with the sun just beginning to set. Patrons dodged out of Geralt’s way, whispers trailing on all sides, but all Geralt cared about was the innkeeper, who was already pulling out a large bag of coin to set on the counter. 

“The bath will be on the house,” the innkeeper grinned. “We’ll send hot meals up for the both of you.”

“Wonderful!” Jaskier clapped, snatching up the bag of coin. 

Geralt said nothing beyond a nod and trudged up the stairs as Jaskier bounded ahead to unlock their room. 

The bath was prepared quickly and before long, Geralt was sinking into the hot water with an appreciative groan. He scrubbed himself down, taking small pleasures in the soap Jaskier had picked out for them. It was a subtle fragrance that reminded Geralt of a field he had once walked through, flowers abound, the sun in the sky. 

“Everything alright?” Jaskier poked his head into the room as Geralt poured water over his head with a small jug. 

He shook off the water, droplets flying everywhere and wiped his hair away from his face. Jaskier seemed to take that as an answer, waltzing into the room with a few towels. He had his doublet off, his chemise hanging off his frame that had finally gained some bulk. Not that Geralt was watching. Geralt stared at the water, distracting himself with some bubbles as his other hand fussed around with his hair. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him and he allowed himself to look up, lips pursing at the hesitant expression on Jaskier’s face.

“May I?” Jaskier asked, motioning to what Geralt assumed were his own haphazard actions.

Geralt raised an eyebrow before giving a singular nod, smiling a little as Jaskier was quick to pull over a stool and roll up his sleeves. 

“Have you ever considered a braid?” Jaskier asked as he tugged at Geralt’s hair tie. “It would keep more hair out of your face when you’re fighting.”

“Never thought about it,” Geralt hummed, relaxing into Jaskier’s fingers that worked through the tangles in his hair. “I suppose I’m used to it.”

There was a hum from Jaskier, the scent of melancholy hanging in the air until that dissipated, drifting into the familiarity of smoke and sweetness.

“Goodness, I’m surprised I haven’t found any birds nesting in here,” Jaskier commented as he struggled with a particularly nasty tangle. 

Jaskier didn’t yank at Geralt’s hair, instead he was meticulous, a comb here and there until at last the tangle came undone.

“You won’t hurt me,” Geralt said as Jaskier moved on. Even if Jaskier used all of his strength, Geralt was sure he wouldn’t feel a thing. 

“You don’t need to be nice for my sake, Geralt. I don’t want to test it anyway.”

Geralt let it be after that and closed his eyes, enveloping himself in the gentle touches. This was nice, to be able to enjoy a moment without worrying about monsters hiding in the shadows. Sleep began to creep up on him, but that was the exact moment Jaskier had finished, his hands landing on Geralt’s shoulders. 

“Well, that looks much better.”

Geralt reluctantly opened his eyes and watched as Jaskier grabbed a vial of oil, pouring it onto his hands. Rubbing his hands together, Jaskier then carded his fingers through Geralt’s hair one last time, a gentle floral scent filling Geralt’s nose. 

“It’ll add a nice shine to your hair,” Jaskier smiled as he wiped his hands off on a small towel. “I’ll see you in the other room?”

Geralt nodded as Jaskier disappeared, a hollowness growing inside of him. He wanted more, needed it, but to ask was terrifying. Grunting, Geralt got out of the tub, drying himself off before heading into the other room, towel around his waist. 

Jaskier was sitting on the bed, back against the headrest as he plucked at his lute. He was concentrating, eyebrows furrowed just a little, a new melody in the process. Geralt threw on whatever clothes he could find, deeming it comfortable enough for the night’s sleep. He’d be on the floor anyway so it didn’t matter what he was wearing. He set a pillow and blanket on the ground, checking for any large splinters before sitting down, preparing for his meditation. 

A clearing of the throat broke his thoughts and Geralt looked up at Jaskier on the bed. 

“We can share the bed, you know. I don’t mind.”

Geralt blinked at this, unsure of how to respond. The last time he had ever shared a bed with someone else was right after sex and even then, Geralt was quick to make himself scarce. 

“I mean,” Jaskier coughed. “If you want. You don’t have to.”

Sleeping in a proper bed did sound nice and Geralt slowly got to his feet, keeping Jaskier in his peripheral. There didn’t appear to be any hesitation on Jaskier’s face as Geralt laid down on the bed, flat on his back. 

“Do you want me to turn out the light?”

“It’s fine.”

Geralt closed his eyes then, listening to Jaskier’s lute, his mind drifting. He could feel Jaskier’s warmth, a pleasant steadiness unfamiliar to Geralt. Their bodies were almost touching and Geralt knew if he put his hand by his side, he would surely find it snug against Jaskier’s leg. It was tempting, the thought comforting and exhilarating all at once. 

“Are you always such a loud breather?”

Geralt snapped his eyes open and turned to Jaskier, a frown on his face. “What?”

“It’s just…,” Jaskier shrugged. “Either you don’t know how to breath properly or you’re stressed.”

It was, of course, neither of those and Geralt didn’t know how to reply. 

“Come here,” Jaskier motioned and set his lute to the side. 

Geralt questioned with his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows unsure of what Jaskier was getting at. Unperturbed by Geralt’s confusion, Jaskier wiggled around on the bed, crawling around until he was situated behind Geralt, legs on either side of him. 

“I’m going to braid your hair, it’ll help you relax.”

Geralt’s first instinct was to jerk away when Jaskier’s hands tugged at his arms, his mind telling him to run. When Jaskier’s hands dropped, it was then Geralt noticed how much he missed the touch and he pushed himself up into a seated position, his breathing ragged and hesitant. 

Jaskier seemed to think nothing of it, already humming as he carded his fingers through Geralt’s damp hair. He scratched a little at Geralt’s scalp, pulling a small sigh out of the witcher that only encouraged Jaskier further. Geralt flushed at this, wondering if it had always been this easy to make him melt. The light touches of Jaskier were calling to him, every tense muscle relaxing bit by bit. Starting at the top of his head, Jaskier carefully braided the hair together until there was no hair left to grab. He pulled out a piece of leather from his trousers and tied the end of the plait off with a small hum of pride. 

“It’s a fitting look, Geralt. You should do this more often,” Jaskier mused, his fingers tracing along Geralt’s back. 

Geralt prickled just a little, but more so at how much he enjoyed the light touches.“Only if you do it for me.”

The silence that filled the room was deafening and Geralt wanted to hear something other than the matching heartbeats of himself and Jaskier. 

“All right. As long as you promise to keep me around always.”

Geralt looked over his shoulder at Jaskier to see a sly grin on his face and the two were locked in a silent battle of staring the other down. It was Geralt who looked away first before he felt Jaskier move back to his side of the bed. 

“Good night, Geralt,” Jaskier said quickly before blowing out the candle. 

Geralt was left to stare at Jaskier’s back as the man laid on his side away from him. In the darkness, there was protection, a way to speak from the heart and Geralt let his guard down. 

“I promise,” he whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Weeks had passed by now and Geralt was over the moon. 

How quickly he and Roach had gotten used to Jaskier’s presence, leaving Geralt in a state of never wanting to let Jaskier go. Silent walks on the Path seemed but a distant memory, days and nights now filled with music and conversation. 

Well, conversation on Jaskier’s part. Geralt did his best, but sometimes, Jaskier had already moved onto another thought by the time Geralt managed a reply. He didn’t mind, however. Listening to Jaskier’s voice was something he looked forward to, almost driving him to impatience as he waited for Jaskier to wake up in the mornings. 

This particular day had been uneventful leading to a fairly quiet evening as the two companions sat by each other, just finished with their supper. 

“What do you think?” Jaskier held out his carved wood for Geralt’s inspection. 

All Geralt could make out were four legs, but the rest of the creation was a mystery. He didn’t want to hurt Jaskier’s feelings, after all, he hadn’t had years of carving experience. Geralt held his tongue, searching for some kind of compliment. 

“That bad, huh?” Jaskier sighed, turning the wood around in his hands. “I was trying to make Roach but horses don’t make sense. I mean look at her. How has she not broken a leg yet?”

Geralt glanced over at Roach, biting back his smile as she glared at Jaskier. Oblivious, Jaskier kept on critiquing himself until Geralt took the woodwork from his hands. 

“Try to carve down here,” Geralt made a small notch in the wood where the neck appeared to be. 

Jaskier’s eyes on him made Geralt’s stomach twist, his voice caught in his throat. He hastily handed back the wood, watched just out of his peripheral as Jaskier tried to mimic Geralt’s movements. A mistake was coming with the next carve and Geralt’s hands shot over, covering Jaskier’s own. 

“Like this,” Geralt’s voice strained as their fingers intermingled. 

A perfect cut was made and Jaskier’s smile was beautiful. 

“There she is,” Jaskier nudged Geralt with his elbow. “I’ll perfect her image, just you wait.”

Geralt was drowning in Jaskier’s eyes, the joy from the man surrounding him. He hardly noticed his hands squeezing Jaskier’s, their faces drifting closer. 

A whinny and the stomp of a hoof snapped Geralt from his haze, his reactive time forcing him to his feet. With a quick scan of the area, there was no danger and Geralt gave Roach a pointed stare. She only shook her head, a small huff as Geralt sat back down, but it was all too late. The moment had passed with Jaskier focused back on the carving. 

Geralt’s confusion swarmed around him, his heart battling with his mind. They weren’t about to embrace surely. He and Jaskier were nothing more than travelling companions and for Geralt that was more than enough. To take the chance to ruin that sent Geralt spinning, his body starting to curl in on itself. The silence dragged on until the two were ready to sleep, Geralt’s doubts still bothering him. 

As he laid down on his bedroll, Geralt held his breath as Jaskier didn’t take his usual place on the other side of the fire. Instead, Jaskier placed his bedroll next to Geralt’s, inching closer to Geralt the moment he settled down. When Geralt finally found the courage to say something, Jaskier’s eyes were already closed, his breaths even. Geralt stared at the canopy above him, the stars that shone through the night. How free they were, unburdened with the chaos of life. 

Geralt tried to sleep, drifting between nothingness and the hyper-awareness of the area around them. Harmless night creatures scampered by, a gentle wind passed through, and Jaskier slept through it all. It seemed he would have a restful night, something which Geralt was thankful for. 

Often, Jaskier was caught in bouts of insomnia, filled with nights of writing well until the sun came up. When he did sleep, it could be for only an hour at a time and Geralt would do his best to help Jaskier through those days. 

A soft moan called Geralt back from his thoughts and he turned to Jaskier, waiting as he held his breath. Jaskier twisted, a panicked shout leaving him then as his arms began to flail about.

When a hand collided with his chest, Geralt jolted up, grabbing hold of Jaskier’s wrist.

“Jaskier,” Geralt shook the other man. “Jaskier!”

Jaskier awoke then with a loud gasp, his eyes wide and unrecognizing. He pulled violently at his wrist that was caught in Geralt’s grip before his mind started to catch up. His chest heaved, eyes darting around before his face began to crumble. Throwing his arm around Geralt, Jaskier buried his face into his shoulder, his body shaking. 

Geralt could hear the small sobs leaving him, his shirt becoming wet with tears. He let go of Jaskier’s wrist and pulled him into a tight embrace, wishing he could take his pain away. 

When Jaskier’s cries began to subside, he pulled back, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He kept his head down, but he didn’t move away from Geralt. 

“I was back in that village,” Jaskier began to speak, his voice just above a whisper. “They whipped me, but they did so much worse.” 

Anger grew in Geralt’s chest, but he kept listening, stroking Jaskier’s hair gently. 

“They threatened to cut my fingers off,” Jaskier looked at his hands. “They–I was no more than an animal. Even less than. Fucking low lives, the lot of them.”

Geralt agreed whole-heartedly and he turned Jaskier’s face up so he could look at it properly. 

“If you want, I can burn the village to the ground.”

Jaskier let out a cynical laugh at this. “As wonderful as that sounds, I don’t want you to have a target on your back. At this point, I can only blame myself.”

“Why?” Geralt frowned. 

That didn’t make sense. Jaskier wasn’t to fault for his torture, the way he was treated.

“I let my guard down,” Jaskier replied. “I called all that attention to myself. I was careless.”

“Careless doesn’t mean you deserve to be punished,” Geralt immediately spoke. 

Jaskier didn’t seem convinced and Geralt held him firmly by the shoulders. 

“Have you killed?” Geralt asked, trying to get Jaskier to look at him. “Have you done some unspeakable crime?”

Jaskier gave a weak shake of his head. 

“Then you didn’t deserve what happened to you.”

“You’re too good to me, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, letting one hand land on top of Geralt’s own. 

Geralt’s shoulders sagged. He could see he was fighting an uphill battle, but to know Jaskier thought of himself this way was heartbreaking. Jaskier was showing Geralt wonderful things every day, he was beginning to properly smile again. He didn’t want to lose that in a single night. 

“Don’t destroy the village,” Jaskier sighed. “They’ll get their retribution in time.”

“I hope so,” Geralt muttered. 

Jaskier fell back onto the pillows, his gaze stuck on the ceiling. Geralt followed him and laid on his side, watching the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Could you...hold me?” Jaskier asked quietly, turning to face Geralt. 

Geralt blinked, unused to such a proposition. When Jaskier’s stare didn’t sway, Geralt caved easily, the need to comfort consuming him. He pulled Jaskier close and he was sure a smile appeared on Jaskier’s face before he flipped onto his side. Spooned up behind Jaskier, Geralt wrapped his arm around his waist, tensing a little when Jaskier tangled their hands together. Then, as quickly as the confusion came, it went and Geralt was engulfed in warmth. 

Jaskier was quickly falling asleep, curling into Geralt’s hold and Geralt only gripped him tighter. 

If Geralt had known touch could be like this, that to hold someone was so gentle and good, he would’ve done it years sooner. Jaskier had given him a chance where no one else had and Geralt took in all of Jaskier, wanting this to last forever. 

He was safe, secure, able to provide Jaskier with the same, and sleep crept up in only a few breaths.

* * *

The morning started as normal, neither man wishing to discuss the night before. 

Geralt didn’t know where to start and Jaskier focused on other matters. His talks remained light, excited for where their next adventure might be in between singing songs while strumming on his lute. It was as if he was an entirely different person in the daylight and Geralt took it all in stride. 

After all, he wasn’t in a place to make assumptions. He took his emotions in silence and perhaps for Jaskier, unimportant thoughts kept the demons at bay. It made Geralt’s heart stir, that Jaskier could still put on a smile after everything. 

By mid-afternoon, Jaskier had begun making up fairy stories for Geralt, even managing to pull a laugh or two out of him. The small outpost in the distance was right on their path and when they approached, the two were in high spirits. It would be a good chance to restock supplies and food in case the wind took them deeper into the forest. 

However, the moment Geralt took a step inside, the man at the counter scowled at them.

“We don’t need your kind here.”

“Ex–excuse me?” Jaskier balked. 

Geralt had already headed to the door and sighed as he turned back around for Jaskier. 

“You don’t even know him,” Jaskier’s voice was raising in volume with each word. “He is a good, kind man! Worth more than you could ever be and–”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, his hand gripping onto Jaskier’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“But Geralt–” Jaskier began to protest.

He closed his mouth upon Geralt’s hardened stare and the two were sent off with a scoff from the man. Outside, Jaskier wrenched himself free from Geralt’s grasp, his anger radiating off of him. 

“How can you let him talk to you like that?”

Geralt said nothing as he tugged Roach towards the road, not checking if Jaskier was following. 

“I don’t understand you, Geralt,” Jaskier jogged up beside him. “Witchers aren’t bad. It’s like anything in life, there’s a few rotten eggs, but that shouldn’t define you. Definitely not you.”

“It’s not worth the fight,” Geralt muttered. 

“And what would humans do if it wasn’t for you? Hm? What about the balance between this world and that of monsters?” 

Geralt mounted Roach then, urging her into a small trot. 

“Don’t you run from me, Geralt!” Jaskier shouted, sprinting after him. “We are talking about this like civilized men! No, not civilized men, as friends!”

Slowing Roach down, Geralt waited until Jaskier had grasped at her side and then grabbed him by the arm, pulling him up onto Roach. Jaskier squawked as he ended up half-draped across the saddle, gripping on for dear life as Roach cantered through the woods. 

When Roach came to a stop, Jaskier fell off, followed by Geralt climbing off of Roach. He helped Jaskier to his feet and leaned back against a nearby tree, arms crossed. 

“I take what I can get,” Geralt started. “No sense in wasting my time on people who will never change.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? It keeps me alive.” 

Jaskier didn’t have a retort, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The silence dragged between them before Jaskier inhaled sharply. 

“You deserve better, that’s all,” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt wasn’t sure about that. He had come to accept the only thing he deserved was his coin and that suited him well enough. However, seeing Jaskier standing there, dejected, bothered him more than any insult could. 

“Thank you, Jaskier,” Geralt struggled to find his voice. “I suppose that’s why I have you.”

Jaskier’s head whipped up at this, his eyes wide and searching. “What?” 

Geralt didn’t want to repeat himself, but Jaskier was giving him little choice. Dropping his arms, Geralt pushed off the tree and took a step closer to Jaskier. New words, so unfamiliar to Geralt, were bursting forth, his need to say it all growing with each second. 

“I have you,” Geralt swallowed. “You show me the good, what’s still worth fighting for.”

Jaskier shifted on his feet, remaining in his spot. There seemed to be a conflict in his eyes and Geralt waited, not wanting to rush the man. 

“Did you feel that way when you first saw me?” Jaskier asked, his voice soft and low.

“I suppose so, yes,” Geralt admitted. 

Then, Geralt was warm. Arms had wrapped around his neck and the press of a body against his own sent him reeling. He didn’t know what to do with himself until he realized Jaskier wasn’t going to let go any time soon. Slowly, he returned Jaskier’s hug, feeling the sigh of relief from the other man. 

“I will do whatever it takes to show the world that you’re not a monster,” Jaskier spoke into Geralt’s shoulder. “To show you what I see.”

Geralt pulled back from the hug, if only to see the look on Jaskier’s face. To be met with such reverence made his heart stop in his chest, a memory he never wanted to forget. 

“Let’s carry on, shall we?” Jaskier smiled at him. “I’ll write you the greatest song yet.”

The embrace ended too soon and Geralt simply watched as Jaskier grabbed his lute, holding it expectantly. Roach herself walked over to Geralt until she was beside him and Geralt gave her a loving pat before he took his first steps. 

Jaskier’s lute filled the forest around them, the first notes still finding their place before Jaskier settled on a melody he was content with. He began to sing about Geralt’s conquests, making even the most mundane tasks sound like the greatest accomplishments. Geralt couldn’t help his small smile and didn’t try to hide it when Jaskier beamed at him. 

There was no arguing with Jaskier, not when he felt this good. Even with his doubts, Geralt could find himself to believe the praises for a little while, to be taken to a world where things were better and beautiful with Jaskier by his side.


	6. Chapter 6

Within a few days, Geralt, Roach, and Jaskier had finally made it to a large, bustling town. 

Rumor had it that the town was in need of a witcher to take care of a rather large bruxae invasion, however, that didn’t stop merchants from selling in the streets. The town had so much business in fact that stalls came all the way out to the road, starting out sparse and then shoving into bigger and bigger clusters. 

Geralt fell into his usual pattern of walking near Jaskier’s side, close enough to hear every breath that left him. Fear emanated off of Jaskier in waves but he held his head high, keeping the pace steady and brisk. As the first building passed by, Jaskier let out a heavy sigh, his eyes darting around. He did not stop, but Geralt was quick to swoop in, tangling Jaskier’s hand up in his own. 

With a relieved smile, Jaskier bumped his shoulder against Geralt’s, his grip on his lute strap lessening just a little. At least, his knuckles were no longer white and Geralt’s heart beat proudly in his chest. Once they made it to an inn and Roach was stabled, the two men sought out the innkeeper, managing to snag one of the last rooms available. 

“If I were to perform, what may we expect to receive in return?” Jaskier asked with a charming smile as Geralt counted his coins for the room. 

“Meals,” the innkeeper nodded. “Perhaps even a bath if you bring in a crowd.”

Jaskier beamed and gave a little bow to the woman behind the counter. “Of course. Your townsfolk shall be swept off their feet.”

The woman laughed at this, a blush rising to her cheeks as she took Geralt’s coin. Away from the bustle of the town, Jaskier was quite the charmer and Geralt wondered what other tricks he had up his sleeve. 

As they entered their room, Jaskier immediately set his lute to the side and fell back on the bed, a pleasant sigh leaving him. “I’m certainly not complaining about where we sleep, but I will enjoy our bed tonight.”

Geralt smirked, digging through one of the bags to find all his necessary potions. “And after your performance, I’m sure you’ll need it.”

“Oh yes,” Jaskier propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s been a while since I’ve properly done a set. I hope I still have it in me to last a few hours.”

“I’ll be watching,” Geralt spoke without thinking. He chewed on his tongue, thankful that his back was turned to Jaskier. “What I mean is, I’ll be there if you need to get away.”

The bed creaked and the soft footfalls of Jaskier approached Geralt. He sidled up, a smile gracing his face. “Thank you, my dear.”

Geralt’s head whipped towards Jaskier, his eyes widening a little before he cleared his throat and went back to his potions. “I’ll deal with the bruxae tomorrow. You may come along if you wish, but there will be a point where I continue alone.”

“Of course,” Jaskier nodded, still standing in Geralt’s personal space. “I’ve heard many nasty tales about them and I certainly don’t want to be victim to that.”

Then, Jaskier was gone from Geralt’s side, sitting on the bed and tuning his lute. How Jaskier moved so fast, so silently was beyond Geralt. It was entrancing, as if Jaskier had some mysticism flowing through his veins.

Geralt focused on the notes Jaskier plucked, the sound of a string shifting up as Jaskier found the right key. While he had never been musically inclined, Geralt still knew when something was out of tune and he waited patiently for Jaskier to be satisfied with his chords. 

“Shall we go down then?” Jaskier held his lute tight to him, already at the door. 

With a sharp nod, Geralt then followed Jaskier down to the main floor and secured himself at a table in an isolated corner. A few townsfolk were already milling in, curious about Jaskier’s presence in the center while trying to get a look at Geralt in the shadows. 

When Jaskier’s first notes filled the room, it was as if a spell overcame the customers as they listened with bated breath. By the time the first song ended, the room was filling up by the second, a crowd forming around Jaskier. 

Geralt kept a careful eye, watched Jaskier’s movements as he entertained. There were brief moments of nerves, a darting gaze and short breaths, but with every clap and cheer, Jaskier shone brighter, gracing the room with a dazzling smile. Geralt became so caught up in watching Jaskier that he hardly noticed the offerings of ale and food, managing a thank you just as the barmaid left. 

Jaskier was wonderful, a welcome distraction to the usual horrors of Geralt’s life. Everything that was good in the world, Geralt saw in Jaskier. Yes, the man had his flaws like anyone else, but Geralt could live with that, find the beauty within the shadows. Jaskier was healing too and that in itself eased an ache in Geralt’s soul that he hadn’t noticed lingering. 

In time, perhaps they could become more, greater than they were right now and Geralt surprised himself with the excitement that stirred inside of him. He smiled when Jaskier sat across from him, drinking down ale and eating, all while managing to talk a mile a minute. Even with Jaskier’s energy waning, he wanted to keep going, explained to Geralt how wonderful all of this was. 

It wasn’t until midnight that Jaskier was finally ready to go to bed and Geralt kept listening as Jaskier kept on talking. 

“Did you know I’ve performed for royalty?” Jaskier grinned as he unbuttoned his doublet. “Quite a few of those courts had me come back for an encore.”

Geralt was already climbing onto the bed and he watched Jaskier dance around the room, despite his exhaustion. “Then we’ll have to find one for you to perform at again.”

Jaskier’s face lit up and he all but bounced to the bed once he was ready. “Do you mean it?”

“Sometimes kings and queens need my help,” Geralt shrugged. “At the very least the coin will be good.”

Jaskier laughed and blew out the candle before shuffling close to Geralt, arm tucked under his head. “I’m so very lucky to have you, Geralt.”

Geralt’s heart thumped in his chest and he looked at Jaskier’s face in the darkness. There were no lies or deceit, nothing but a shining admiration that stared back. Geralt fought with himself, opened his mouth to say the words back, but Jaskier’s eyes began to droop and he curled closer to Geralt. Taking a chance, Geralt tucked himself into Jaskier and let himself be carried away by the soft breaths, the warmth of a gentle rest. 

When morning came, there were no complaints of the early hour and Jaskier was quiet for most of the walk to the graveyard. Thick fog surrounded them, the eerie silence ringing in Geralt’s ears. A crypt finally came into view and Geralt held his hand out behind him, motioning Jaskier to stay. With a glance, he caught Jaskier’s nod before he charged on ahead, sliding through the door that clung to its hinges. 

The area was too dark, but Geralt could already smell the bruxae and he hastily pulled out a potion, drinking it in a single gulp. As his transformation took over, the bruxae pounced, barely giving Geralt time to pull out his silver sword. His first swipe hit the target, but he had a near miss with a swipe of talons. Rolling out of the way, Geralt cast Igni, causing some of the bruxae to break from the group. Those unaffected narrowed in, the small space even more cramped as Geralt was surrounded on all sides. 

With a growl, Geralt leapt and swiped, predicting the moves of a hive mind as he finished off another bruxa. Growls and screams pierced his ears, but he did not stop, even as claws dug into his back. His mind became a muted haze, practiced precision and instinct guiding him. He didn’t feel pain, didn’t see or hear the carnage until the last body dropped. Left in a pile of bodies and guts, Geralt heaved a breath and kicked down the crypt door, the potion still running through his veins. 

The sun was beginning to rise, the graveyard a much more pleasant state than before with the dissolving fog. Marching through the tombstones, Geralt finally made it back to where he had left Jaskier and he wiped his sword on the grass. 

He didn’t dare look at Jaskier, his chest still heaving, mumbled growls escaping from his mouth. 

“Oh, Geralt, your eyes,” Jaskier began softly. “Can I sing about them? They’re magnificent.”

Geralt snapped his gaze towards Jaskier and tilted his head, flashing a bit of fang. “Magnificent?” he rumbled. 

Jaskier nodded, almost a little too gleefully, and took a step closer to Geralt. “How long does this last?”

“Should wear off soon,” Geralt answered, the colliding thoughts in his mind forming a headache. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripped tight to his sword as he tried to steady himself. Jaskier was ridiculous and Geralt loved him for it. 

Eyes flying open, Geralt stared at Jaskier, realized what he had just thought. Surely this was all part of a dream, but with Jaskier watching him, his eyes shining with concern, Geralt couldn’t convince himself of anything but the truth. 

With the potion beginning to subside, Geralt sheathed his sword and soaked in the rays of the rising sun as Jaskier shuffled closer. 

“Let’s get you back. I see a wound there that needs attending to,” Jaskier pointed, tugging at Geralt’s sleeve. 

“Just a scratch,” Geralt reassured. 

He touched the wound and winced, but seeing just a bit of blood on his fingers meant he was already on his way to healing. However, he let Jaskier drag him along and chatter as the potion worked its way out of his system. 

“It was so quiet waiting for you. I thought for sure something had happened but then there you were. How many were there? Do you always take that potion before fighting bruxae?” 

Geralt did his best to answer Jaskier’s questions, to keep up with his buzzing mind. When they had made it back to the town, Geralt was then bombarded by the townsfolk with even more enquiring and small bags of coin being handed his way. 

With arms full, both he and Jaskier finally settled into the safety of their room in which Geralt was quickly pushed into a bath while Jaskier fussed over him. 

“Well, it shouldn’t need any stitches, but we’ll wrap it up for now,” Jaskier explained as he cleaned Geralt’s wounds. 

He tsked at the fresh cuts on his back, dutifully worked all the blood and grime out of Geralt’s hair. Before long, Geralt was deemed clean enough and Jaskier braided Geralt’s hair into a neat plait. 

As Geralt dressed, Jaskier counted through their coin, sorting it into a larger bag while forming a small pile to the side. 

“I’d say we’ve had quite a day. Let’s explore the town, have a bit of fun.”

Geralt raised a brow at this but motioned for Jaskier to lead the way, following him into the bustling streets. Nearly every vendor offered them a discount and Geralt soon found out just how much Jaskier enjoyed shopping. Bundle upon bundle filled both their hands, yet Jaskier still managed to leave with a fair amount of coin by the end. 

Taking a seat at the town square’s fountain, the two companions took to people watching while sharing a small meal. Geralt let the warmth of Jaskier wash over him as he savored the little bit of peace he was allowed.

“–and this one has raspberries,” Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and opened it. 

He placed a small tartlet on Geralt’s palm, explaining every ingredient as if he had made the dessert himself. Geralt ate carefully as he watched Jaskier enjoy his own food and the sunny day. 

It had been such a long journey, but Geralt was learning who Jaskier was, what hid beneath the surface. To see him happy, unafraid, was perfection. He could watch this forever and truly be content. 

“What?” Jaskier grinned when he caught Geralt’s stare. 

Geralt ducked his head with a noncommittal noise, searching for any excuse. However, Jaskier jumped in first, ushering Geralt to his feet. 

“Let’s go back to the inn. I have something for Roach,” Jaskier collected their packages. 

Helping Jaskier with the load, Geralt stuck by his side, letting himself throw glances back and forth with Jaskier. 

How wonderful this all was, the world around Geralt fading away until it was just him and Jaskier.

* * *

Geralt and Jaskier had been back on the road for a few days now, settling down by a small fire for the evening. There was a soft, warm wind and the two sat in content silence as they worked on their whittling.

“Geralt, what makes you happy?”

Looking up from his knife, Geralt watched Jaskier’s hardened focus on his own wood carving. His face was scrunched in concentration, but he repeated his question again. 

“I don’t know,” came Geralt’s reply. 

That was his honest truth. He wasn’t sure what happiness was, if he had ever truly experienced it. Whatever came into his life was either necessity or a means to an end. Not based on raw emotion. 

“Really?” Jaskier frowned, his knife coming to an abrupt stop. 

“What do you mean by happy?” Geralt shrugged.

“Well,” Jaskier chewed on his lip. “Anything. The best meal you’ve ever had, when a shopkeeper gives you a good deal.”

Geralt let out a small cynical laugh at this. “That’s happiness?”

Jaskier nodded, his smile gentle. The fire crackled between them, Geralt still without a proper answer and Jaskier waiting patiently. As if picking up on Geralt’s hesitation, Jaskier set his work to the side, his gaze cast downward. 

“When you first saved me, I thought it would be impossible to be happy again. In the hours drifting between our world and the next, I was ready to give up. But then, your kindness, your patience, it reignited my hope and when you made me smile, that’s when I truly knew what happiness was.”

Geralt’s heart thumped in his chest. Jaskier’s honesty was almost too much, but Geralt didn’t want to stop hearing it either. He stiffened as Jaskier got to his feet and sat close to him, their sides almost touching. Amber eyes stared into deep blue, heartbeat pounding in Geralt’s ears. He opened his mouth and he spoke without a thought.

“You. You make me happy.”

Jaskier’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull his gaze away from Geralt. “Do you really mean that?”

Geralt nodded, his grip on his knife and the carved wood tightening. When warm hands enveloped his own, there was a tingling sensation, specks of starlight floated in his vision. 

“Geralt, may I kiss you?”

The world was fading away, there was nothing at all beyond the gaze of admiration in Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt wanted to stay in this forever and whispered his affirming answer. When soft lips pressed against his own, Geralt let his eyes slowly close, allowed his defenses to fall down. He and Jaskier breathed in tandem together, holding their embrace for as long as they were allowed. Neither could tell who pulled away first, but it didn’t matter as they held their foreheads together, their breathing loud in their ears.

“Thank you for not stabbing me.”

Geralt blinked, glanced down, and realized his knife was still tight in his grip. A breathy laugh left him and he set everything to the side before taking hold of Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier grinned, leaned back in to place a small kiss on the corner of Geralt’s mouth. Geralt’s heart stuttered and he tugged Jaskier closer to properly hug him. Tucking his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, Geralt inhaled sharply as the feeling of Jaskier took over. 

“Let’s lay down, hm?” Jaskier’s fingers danced across Geralt’s shoulders. 

Geralt nodded into Jaskier’s neck, reluctant to pull away. The prospect of cuddling with Jaskier was stronger, however and they were quick to get ready for the evening before settling down in front of the fire. Jaskier curled up behind Geralt, settled a strong arm across his chest as he nuzzled at the back of Geralt’s neck. 

With his hand slipping over Jaskier’s, Geralt tangled their fingers together and soon all the tension in his body had faded away. Jaskier’s breath on his skin was a reminder, a hope, that no matter what was to come, they would always have each other.


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of months had flown by and the reputation of The White Wolf and His Bard was spreading across the continent. 

Many villages greeted them with excitement, respect Geralt had never quite had before. Even if Jaskier liked to stretch the truth in his songs, overindulge on Geralt’s traits, it was nice to not have a barrage of rocks being thrown in his direction, to actually be offered a room at an inn without much haggling. 

If Geralt had been told his life would turn out like this, he would have never believed it. Now, he couldn’t imagine anything without Jaskier being there. Jaskier, who had been through unspeakable torture and yet still found a way to smile. 

Day by day, he was healing. Even though the nightmares lingered, panic still sprouted out of nowhere, Jaskier remained strong. Together, the two helped each other through the lows, and Geralt had found someone he could be vulnerable and honest with. 

It was late into the evening, candlelight washing their room at an inn with a soft glow as Geralt and Jaskier finished their everyday chores. Jaskier had taken to rummaging around in the packs while Geralt made the final swipes of the whetstone on his blade.

Satisfied with the sharpness, Geralt set it to the side and glanced up just as Jaskier approached him. Jaskier shifted on his feet, stumbling over his words before he held out a bundle to Geralt. 

“I realized I don’t know your birthday or if there’s anything we should celebrate in particular. I want you to have this though. Something to remember us by.”

Taking the gift, Geralt laid it out in his palm, carefully unwrapping it from its layers. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at a carved circle of flowers, a perfect replica of the wolf from his medallion sitting in the center. 

“Are you expecting either of us to forget so soon?” Geralt couldn’t help tease.

Jaskier scoffed and gave Geralt a light shove. “Of course not. Or rather, I should hope not.”

Geralt agreed and he set the gift down, taking Jaskier’s hands in his own. “Thank you,” he breathed, daring to meet Jaskier’s eyes. 

Of everything Geralt had come across in his time, nothing compared to Jaskier. Here was a man who had kept beauty and song with him, an enduring hope for the better. It gave Geralt his purpose, his courage, and he didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers. He wanted this forever, wanted Jaskier by his side until the very end.

“I...I love you, Jaskier.”

The corners of Jaskier’s mouth turned up and he tugged Geralt up to his feet so they could properly look each other in the eye.

“I love you too, Geralt,” Jaskier spoke, his hands squeezing Geralt’s.

With warmth filling his heart, Geralt pulled Jaskier in, their breaths mingling before the gap between them was closed. They fit perfectly together, their kiss gentle as they memorized the feeling of each other. Jaskier’s arms wrapped around Geralt’s neck while Geralt’s hands had found their place on Jaskier’s hips. When the kiss broke, both dove back in for another embrace, not wanting to stop for a moment. Geralt left a trail of kisses along Jaskier’s jaw, heart racing at the little gasps this elicited from Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s hands moved to Geralt’s shoulders, his grip tightening that Geralt pulled away, making sure Jaskier was alright. 

“Can we…?” Jaskier breathed, his eyes searching Geralt’s. 

Understanding immediately, Geralt nodded, leading them to the bed. They kissed again, but this time with more passion, open mouths and appreciative moans. Jaskier’s hands grasped at the hem of Geralt’s shirt which he stripped quickly from before going for Jaskier’s own. He hesitated, waiting for Jaskier’s nod and then tugged it over his head. Jaskier’s instinct kicked in, his arms shielding his chest and stomach as his breaths quickened. Taking a step back, Geralt held Jaskier’s face in his hands, thumbs caressing his cheeks. 

“I trust you,” Jaskier said at last. 

He dropped his arms and laid down on the bed, gaze on Geralt as he kept his arms at his sides. Geralt climbed on top of him, his hands tracing along the first of many scars, wishing he could take them all away. Leaning down, Geralt kissed at the marks, reveling in Jaskier’s pants and arched back. 

Just before reaching his waistband, Geralt moved back up, capturing Jaskier’s mouth in another warm kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” Geralt whispered when their kiss was broken, faces close enough that their lips touched as Geralt spoke. 

Jaskier’s breath hitched, his hands tangling themselves in Geralt’s hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

Nuzzling against Jaskier’s neck, Geralt placed a kiss there before moving back down, slowly untying the laces and pulling the last of Jaskier’s clothing off. With a sharp breath, Geralt massaged Jaskier’s thighs, watching intently as Jaskier relaxed into his touch, hands fisting at the sheets. 

His cock, already hard, rested on his stomach, but Geralt didn’t want to rush things. Leaning down, Geralt placed open mouth kisses on the insides of Jaskier’s thighs, moving up to his hips and brushing his lips along Jaskier’s cock. 

Jaskier whined and shifted underneath him, his impatience apparent, before Geralt licked up the length. Geralt thought he would lose Jaskier then from his appreciative moan, his hands flying to Geralt’s head. The slight tug sent a wave of pleasure to Geralt’s own member and he sucked at the tip of Jaskier’s cock, holding his hips down. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier stuttered out, pushing up against Geralt’s hands. 

With a small smile, Geralt then took more of Jaskier into his mouth, feeling every twitch and jerk before he set a steady rhythm. Jaskier’s moans filled his ears, precome dripping into his mouth but just as Jaskier came close to his climax, Geralt pulled off his cock. 

“Bastard,” Jaskier huffed. 

Geralt only smiled, kissing Jaskier’s stomach as he got off the bed. There was a noise of protest, but when Jaskier saw the bottle Geralt retrieved, he quickly went silent. 

“Gods, yes,” Jaskier sighed, spreading his legs. 

Ridding himself of his own trousers, Geralt then positioned himself between Jaskier’s legs, hands pushing Jaskier apart even furthur. He looked up at Jaskier to see his eyes blown wide, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Alright?” Geralt asked.

“Yes, of course, um,” Jaskier nodded. “Didn’t know you were so...endowed.”

Geralt laughed a little, never having really thought about it before. No one in the past had complained. Not that Jaskier was now. With all the smells emanating off of him, Geralt waited, wanting, needing Jaskier’s approval. 

“I want you, Geralt,” Jaskier nudged him with his foot.

Letting out a breath, Geralt poured the oil on his fingers, one finger tracing from Jaskier’s cock to his hole. Jaskier shuddered, his eyes rolling back as he anticipated Geralt’s finger. 

“You’ve done this before?” Geralt asked, his finger circling the rim. 

Jaskier nodded with a swallow. “Just been some time.”

Geralt pressed his finger in, gauging all of Jaskier’s bodily reactions as he stretched him open. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasped, his eyes screwing shut. 

It was a mix of pleasure and pain, but Geralt could smell the excitement taking over as he added a second finger. Soon, Jaskier was writhing with three fingers inside of him, Geralt curling them just enough to send Jaskier over the edge. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier begged. 

Not needing another word, Geralt oiled his length before positioning himself at Jaskier’s hole, pushing in against the loosened muscle. His hands gripped onto Jaskier’s hips as he bottomed out, nearly coming with the sound of Jaskier’s groan. 

He began, slow, gentle, but when Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt’s waist, pulling him down with such force that Geralt had to catch himself, their pace sped up. Geralt’s hands found Jaskier’s own, their fingers lacing together as they moved together. It was perfect, a steady rhythm of trust and love. Geralt sucked and nipped at Jaskier’s neck, their moans mingling together in their throes of pleasure. Jaskier was close and Geralt took one hand, grabbing Jaskier’s cock to help bring him to completion. 

Jaskier came with a shout, stripes of white coating his stomach as his body trembled. With the clenching ring of muscle, it only took Geralt a few more thrusts before he succumbed to his own orgasm, using the last of his strength to hold himself above Jaskier. The two stayed as they were, foreheads pressed together and small smiles gracing their faces. Their breathing was the only sound in the room, almost too loud for the silence that surrounded them. 

As Geralt pulled out, he grabbed his discarded shirt to wipe the two of them off, his fingers dancing along Jaskier’s skin. Jaskier stirred under his ministrations, his eyes full of contentment and love while he watched Geralt’s every move. Overwhelmed, Geralt pulled him close, crumbling under Jaskier’s gentle hug. 

“Thank you, my love,” Jaskier breathed. 

Brushing away some of the hair stuck to Jaskier’s forehead, Geralt then kissed it, still holding Jaskier close to him. 

“Only yours.”

The two men smiled at each other, hearts beating strong as they curled into each other. They had found their path and there was nothing in the world that could make them stray.

**Author's Note:**

> just a little self-indulgent fic
> 
> [Tumblr](http://fromkaermorhentolettenhove.tumblr.com)


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